


The Benefits of Architecture and Tailoring

by farevenasdecidedtouse



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, M/M, Prounoun Play, Semi-Public Sex, public sex fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:12:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farevenasdecidedtouse/pseuds/farevenasdecidedtouse
Summary: A conversation between the Emperor of the Ethuveraz and his secretary, touching on a number of topics - many completely innocent, some less so.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1010nabulation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1010nabulation/gifts).



 “Do you know, Serenity,” Csevet remarked in a conversational tone from his place to the Emperor’s left, “how easy it would be for us to suck your cock, sat as you are?”

Maia somehow managed not to whirl bodily toward Csevet. As it was, his ears twitched violently, cheeks coloring so darkly he was sure that were the concert hall lights only slightly brighter the occupants of the stage would be able to see it clearly. The delicate silver chain of one earring had tangled on a braided lock of his hair and he reached up to detach it, a momentary distraction from the sudden and violent rush of heat to his loins. “We had not considered such a thing,” he replied, the formal pronouns somehow rendering the sentiment filthier than any amount of familiarity might have.

“As you can see,” Csevet continued with a gesture toward the front of the Imperial box in which they sat for the performance, flanked by Maia’s Second Nohecharei (too tactful or too focused on the music to pay any mind to Csevet’s low voice) “the balcony is high enough for us to kneel before you, completely out of sight of those below. An addition of your great-grandfather’s time, we believe.” He cast a hand toward the ranks of Varedeise heraldry that Maia knew were carved in bas-relief on the outside of the box. “An we were to drop to our knees in front of you, remove every layer of fabric and take your shaft between our lips, those below us might never know.”

“Is this a thing you have often considered doing?” Maia asked, neutral tone of his own voice entirely belying the blood pounding in his ears. He could clearly feel he throb of his suddenly rigid organ against the fabric of his underthings, the smooth cloth rendered deliciously unbearable against his skin. He fought the urge to squirm in place as Csevet continued:

“On certain occasions. Particularly during tedious Corazhas sessions where no one pays us the least mind and we have ample time to catalogue such thoughts for later use. Use on those nights when we must remain apart from you and have only the thought of your hands on us and your cock inside us to enjoy.” Csevet’s gaze rested on the courtiers assembled in the concert hall below them, ears and posture casual enough to bely the answering swell of his own erection inside tightly-fitted lawn breeches. “We have imagined secreting ourself under the Verven’theileian table ere you were to make your way there—having briefed you fully beforehand, of course—and in the course of the arguments beginning to lick and mouth at your cock through whatever you might be adorned in. Then as you grew more and more eager we would have your robes around your waist ere you might cry out and begin to suck you in earnest, that long, elegant length as far down our throat as we might accommodate… We wonder, would you be able to keep yourself from crying aloud, or from giving up any attempt at composure and simply fucking our mouth to your climax in full view of every Witness?” The smile he cast at Maia was far too innocent to be taken as suspect by the assembled court and anything but complete depravity to Maia.

“And…” Maia dug the smooth, blue-lacquered nails of both hands into his palms to draw his thoughts into some sort of focus. The song occurring below them ended, and just in time Maia remembered that he ought to be applauding. “And if we were to order you to act upon these fancies here and now?” he asked over the noise of applause, ears quivering with the thought of his own boldness. “To make good upon them in full view of the Untheileneise Court?”

“Bound as we are to our liege’s service,” Csevet replied, the color in his cheeks fortunately attributable to the warmth of the room, “we could do no other than to play the biddable courier whore who, deep down, we have never ceased to be. Certainly not where you are concerned, Serenity.”

It was all Maia could do to choke back a moan at the words as Csevet continued: “We would sink to our knees and hold your robes aside before running our tongue down the underside of your shaft, watching it rise high enough to touch that girdle” (a gesture toward the silver, peridot-set garment in question, fingers near close enough to brush Maia’s thigh) “as the rest of the court watched with us. Perhaps we might toy with your stones with one hand as we plied our mouth, or perhaps slip a finger inside you to find that spot you so love to have stroked. Or perhaps we might simply grasp your thighs, stroking them as we admired your skin against ours.”

Maia opened his mouth to inquire further, but Csevet was already pressing on: “Then, once you were erect enough for our satisfaction, when we could see the early seed beading on your cock’s tip and feel the muscles of your thighs tremble, only then would we wrap our lips around the head and begin to trace the ridge with our tongue. We fancy we would wait until we felt you twitch as if fighting off your crisis before removing our lips for no more than a few heartbeats, then taking you in to the hilt.”

“Would you finish us so?” Maia asked, wondering distantly if he might swoon. Every incremental movement, every breath and tiny shift in his posture drew his attention to the sweet, throbbing agony between his legs at even the thought of such a forbidden thing.

“We would ever draw back from the moment of release until you simply grasped our braids and began to thrust as roughly as we might bear into our throat,” Csevet replied with a flush of his ears and a visible twitch of his erection. Maia felt a sudden swell of gratitude toward his great-grandfather’s architects and wondered if it would be sacrilegious to light candles in the Ulimeire for purposes of thanks. He dismissed the thought firmly. “Or,” Csevet continued, “until you drew back from us, took yourself in hand and spent over our face and in our hair, bidding us clean the seed from them with fingers and tongue—“

Applause swelled around them once more and Maia barely managed to put his hands together in the approximation of similar before his climax claimed him. The insistent friction of his clothes, the thought of such illicit things, things that never would have occurred to him to even stroke himself to the thought of in his lover’s absence, left him near swooning in his chair, unable to keep from rubbing the underside of his sac against the seat with every pulse of seed that issued from his cock to mark the (thankfully many and thick) layers of clothing that shrouded his lower body from the gaze of the bowing musicians. He felt soiled and drained, body and soul, empty of anything but the desire sated so illicitly. “Didst just…” Csevet asked, hazarding a glance toward his lap.

Maia nodded, too overcome to speak.

For the first time, Csevet glanced at him with something like guilt. “Art all right?” he asked, drawing close in spite of the swelling music behind him. “Was it too much?”

Maia managed, barely, to shake his head. “I… no. No, it was not,” he replied, voice breathless but steady. The posture of his nohecharei had become very proper indeed, he noted. “However, if thou might’st prevail upon my edocharei to have a bath ready once the recital ends I would be most grateful.”

“Serenity,” Csevet replied with a graceful dip of his head. He stood, managing somehow to elegantly conceal his cockstand with the graceful combination of the folds of his coat and his ever-present hornbook.

“Is there nothing I can do?” Maia asked, voice quietly diffident beneath the music. “For thee, having served me so?”

Csevet turned, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps once they have finished with thine upkeep thou might’st send them away that I might join thee in the bath.”

Maia’s expression told him all he needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much to my beta DachOsmin who provided a great deal of encouragement and kept my prose from being redundant as shit. 1010nabulation, I cannot tell you how thrilled I was with this assignment and I hope my happiness is reflected in the story.


End file.
